Declan Bogue

AT THE VERY end of Saturday’s Congress, a selection of the members of the Football Review Committee – minus Michael Murphy and Malachy O’Rourke who have since stepped down after resuming active service – were invited by GAA President Jarlath Burns to take a warm round of applause.

Some of those up on the stump had that mild uncomfortable feeling, like when you realise that new woolly jumper is an itchy bag of static.

Either way the applause came rolling in waves. Sustained and loud. The lads were treated as triumphant militia returning from the Crusades, an almost 200-year long campaign waged by the Christian Latin Church in the middle ages that brought slaughter, gore, starvation and disease across and beyond modern-day Europe.

Rather that, though, than having to sit for hours reviewing videotape of the last decade of footballing scutter.

Before you go expressing any negative viewpoint of how the not so beautiful game is about to change, and those in the GAA are no different in being uncomfortable with change, ask yourself if you would have survived being in a committee with Jim Gavin peering over your elbow at what you were scribbling, putting you on the spot with a well-timed question when you gazed dreamily out the window, wondering what was for lunch.

The Football Review Committee, let’s call them Gavin’s Gang, had a serious outing on Saturday. They started strong and laid down a few markers by insisting that any of the rule changes would apply to the club game in 2025. It gained 93% of the vote.

So far, so Gavin. It felt like an early goal from Con O’Callaghan sucking a little life out of the opposition.

There was no opposition, by the way. Important to get it out there. Given the delegates present were there to decide on altering the face of an entire sport, you might have thought that at least a few delegates might have straightened themselves up to full height and outlined an objection here or there.

Damn this digital age. We do all our venting in the online world now. The GAA are heading for a crushing lack of blow-hards and those that adore the sound of their own voice.

One delegate from Sligo began a little bit of respectful pushback, questioning if the new rules had been sufficiently tested, but a quick Jim Gavin anecdote on testing within the aeronautical field had him in his box.

But let’s grab a hold of our Virtual Reality headsets and enter the room on Saturday for Special Congress. Let’s take hold of a microphone and give it the old ‘One-two, one-two’ and a thump for good measure, before clearing our throats lined with Condor plug pipe tobacco and painting this picture.

Kerry are playing Tyrone.

Tyrone are leading by two points and there are three minutes left on the clock.

Tyrone have a kickout that Niall Morgan gets away to a white shirt. They pull a few triangles and get the ball up the pitch, by which time Niall Morgan has made it up past the half way mark.

Now, Kerry are outnumbered, 11 to Tyrone’s 12 outfield players.

So they hunker into a defensive shell and wait for Tyrone to try something.

Only, Tyrone don’t try anything. They are determined to run the clock down by playing keep-ball.

And here’s the thing; they have 100 metres in which to do so, against 11 defenders.

Let’s be even more blatant.

They could station a Matthew Donnelly, a Conor Meyler, whoever, 47 metres from their own endline, where they stand toe-tapping, ball to hand.

Two metres away, Kerry attackers Paul Geaney, David and Paudie Clifford are standing on the 45 metre line. They are powerless to do anything against the man in possession.

If you cannot be tackled from behind anymore, then the game loses something of the 360 degree element, being played with 180 degree vision.

Jim Gavin at James Lawlor / INPHO James Lawlor / INPHO / INPHO

At Congress, the presentation was of the kind designed to win arguments. It included Roscommon’s incredible six-minute spell of keep ball against Dublin in the summer of 2023.

It’s a familiar tactic. Take an example of something generally not to the liking of those inside the room and hand out the pitchforks. A final emotional nudge to those that might be tempted to vote no. For the craic, like.

There will be other unintended consequences. There’s a fear that the 35-metre spinner will go the way of the Dodo, outstripped by the move that recycles the ball, scrum-half to out-half fashion, to gain the two-point shot.

Might not sound much on the face of it, but it’s another example of moves slowing down.

The fear is that goals will slow to a trickle, thanks to the new scoring structure. Let’s keep an eye on that too.

But look, we’re just backwoodsmen. Neanderthals, really.

Perhaps the game will be far better. Maybe, the coaches in the modern game have a bit more about them than this cynical, black-hearted and bitter malcontent, who knows not that the game is about daring and glory and going out and having a right cut at it.

Sitting there and doing nothing was not an option as Gaelic football became as big a chore as Sunday Mass over the last decade. Perhaps it was always thus and we only cared about our crowd anyway.

But the old ship needed a new coat of paint. It’s got it. Let’s keep an open mind.